


One Thing I Learned Today

by gretawhy



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:23:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gretawhy/pseuds/gretawhy
Summary: This story was heavily inspired by the song "Beaches of Cheyenne" by Garth Brooks. And mildly inspired by the song "Still Holding Out For You" by SHeDaisy.





	

****

WALKING THE BEACHES  
Joseph Fatone

The accident didn’t happen too long ago, but the aftermath is somewhat of a local legend. They say he still walks these beaches, some claim they see him at night, looking out over the ocean. Tell them the moonlight was just playing tricks on their minds, and they scoff.

I know this for a fact. I’m one of those who scoff.

Joshua ‘JC’ Chasez is the figure on the beach that I speak of. His lover of many years, Lance Bass, was tragically killed during a rodeo accident in Wyoming. Upon finding out the news, JC became so distraught, he destroyed his property, and then took a walk into the vast ocean that was his backyard, never to be seen or heard from again.

Except for those of us who see his apparition along the shore.

This is just one of the local legends in this small California town, there are many others to speak of.

 

Justin Timberlake bit his lip and raised his tired eyes from the computer screen as the article continued. He sat back in his chair, wiping a hand along his tired face, stopping at his eyes, moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. Term papers sucked. He sighed and glanced at the printer that sat next to the computer, making sure it had paper before pressing the print option. Term papers for Folklore 202 sucked even more.

How he got stuck with the legend of the crazy guy walking the beaches was beyond him. Why the hell couldn’t he have gotten Paul Bunyon or something? At least that was a real folktale, not like this shit, which only happened – Justin glanced at the date on the paper – a year ago. A year ago! Wasn’t it some kind of law that these things had to happen like a hundred years ago or something to be considered folklore? If there wasn’t such a law, there should be. Maybe he would somehow incorporate _that_ into his paper.

Exiting out of the web site he was on, he disconnected from the Internet. Taking the papers out of the printer tray, he shoved them into his backpack before scraping the chair backwards and standing up. He got a few scowls from other students nearby, but he ignored them, turning his Carolina hat backwards on his head and heading towards the library exit.

Exchanging simple greetings with people he knew along the way, Justin pushed open the heavy glass doors and stepped outside into the California sun. Taking a deep breath, he decided what he could use right now was a good run along the beach. Hell, maybe he’d run into that JC guy, and he could find out some answers.

*****

Before heading out the door to go to the beach, Justin did some menial research from home. Finding out the address of the local writer who wrote the article he printed, Joseph Fatone, was easier than he thought. Whistling for his dog, he stuck the piece of paper with the address between his lips, and squatted on the ground to attach her leash.

Removing the paper and standing up, he spoke to the dog, “Ready for our run, girl?”

The Black Labrador, Lexus, cocked her head, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Her brown eyes looked up at him pitifully, and her tail began to wag. Justin laughed, “Let’s go, then. We’re going to the beach today.”

He led her out the door and unlocked the door of his car, Lexus hopping right in and moving to the passenger seat. Justin patted her on the head and spoke to her as he drove.

“We’re going to find out the scoop today, Girl. Are you up for it?” He glanced over at the dog that wasn’t paying any attention to him; her head was stuck out the partially open window. Justin grinned, “I hope you get bugs in your mouth.” The dog turned to him and gave him another pitiful look before sticking her head back out the window.

Justin drove along the shoreline, mentally trying to guess where the house was that he was looking for. When he thought he was in the general area, he pulled into a parking spot and turned off the car. Reaching for the dog's leash, he opened the door and got out, bending over to touch his toes after he shut the door. Justin did some minor stretching and looked down at Lexus.

“Ready?” She woofed in answer and they stepped onto the sand.

Justin’s footfalls were light in the sand, the only sound coming from the crash of the surf along the shore. He looked around as he ran, taking in the scenery. The beach was mostly deserted, although people were scattered about, some flying kites, some throwing a Frisbee, others just enjoying the sun. Lexus ran next to him, keeping his light pace, occasionally wanting to wander off after a wayward Frisbee, but a slight word from Justin, and she stayed at his side.

The houses along the beach were far enough apart to provide privacy, yet close enough to provide the comfort of neighbors. When Justin thought he was getting close to Joseph Fatone’s house, he started to jog further up on the sand, closer to the houses. Slowing down, he read the numbers as he passed, barely glancing at the houses themselves. So when he finally slowed to a stop in front of 5204, he was surprised at the size of the house.

It was not huge, but bigger than the beach cottages Justin envisioned. The deck was the length of the back of the house, tall glass doors allowing an inside view. The beach was lower than the road above, so the deck was a few feet off the ground to compensate. Underneath the deck, beach umbrellas and lawn chairs were neatly placed, ready for a moment’s notice.

Justin got his breathing under control and led Lexus around to the front of the house. It was only then he realized what he must look like. A sweaty punk-ass kid who was going to be knocking on a professional’s door, looking for an interview. And God damn if he didn’t forget his tape recorder in the car.

“Shit,” he muttered, standing in front of the house, his dog looking up at him questionably by his side. He placed his hands on his hips and looked between Lexus and the front door. “Whatta think, Lex? Should we go knock?” Lexus cocked her head. “Well, we can’t both be indecisive, Lexus, I’m gonna need more than that.” As she usually did when Justin spoke to her, she began to wag her tail. He nodded, “You’re right. Fuck it, let’s go.”

She trotted along as he stepped onto the porch and rang the doorbell.

A man about Justin’s height came to the door. He was wearing a Superman T-shirt and a pair of mesh shorts. His brown hair was sticking up in a million directions, and his face had what looked like a few days worth of stubble on it. Justin glanced down at his watch, it was late afternoon, and yet the guy looked like he just got out of bed.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Justin smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner, “I hope so. I’m looking for Joseph Fatone.”

A quizzical frown graced his face, “Why?”

Justin took a deep breath; this was not going well. “I’m Justin Timberlake, I’m a student at the University. I have to do a term paper for my Folklore class, and I was assigned a local story. A story in which you wrote an article about.”

The man’s face broke into a smile, and he laughed, revealing perfectly white teeth. “A term paper for Folklore? My God, what they make you do nowadays.”

Justin grinned, “Tell me about it.”

The man stepped back and opened the door, “Come on in, I’m Joey.”

Justin hesitated, “Um, maybe I shouldn’t.” He motioned to Lexus, “My dog…”

Joey waved his hand, “Please, like I care.” Justin shrugged and followed him into the house, and he continued to speak, “When you live on the beach, you get used to sand being all over the place.” He glanced over his shoulder, “I swear, I could vacuum every day.”

Justin followed Joey through the house, not wanting to look around, but not being able to stop himself. The place was neater than he had expected, only a few things littered the floor: a sweatshirt here, a pair of sneakers there. Joey led him into the kitchen, where he got a bowl out of the cabinets and filled it with water for Lexus and set a can of soda in front of Justin.

Taking a beer out of the fridge for himself, he sat across the table from Justin. “So, Justin, right?” He waited for Justin to nod and continued, “What story are you stuck with?”

“JC Chasez and Lance Bass.” He didn’t fail to notice the shadow that crossed Joey’s face as he spoke their names. He squinted at Joey, “you know the story?”

Joey nodded silently, taking a long pull on his beer bottle. “Yeah. Good friends of mine.”

Justin winced, “I’m sorry.”

Joey picked at the label on the bottle of beer, “Thanks. They, um, lived next door.” He motioned with his hand to the right side of his house, and involuntarily, Justin glanced in that direction. “They were great guys, I still miss them.”

Justin paused, “If this is too hard for you,” he said, “I can leave, I can find my information somewhere else.”

Joey suddenly looked up at him, “No!” He said. “Stay. I don’t want you getting some half-assed story from someone else. They were my friends, I should be the one to help you.”

Justin raised his hands, “Fair enough.”

Joey raked his hand through his disheveled hair. “It might be better if you read JC’s diary first,” he said, “that way, I won’t have to explain as much.”

Justin’s eyebrows shot up; “JC kept a diary?”

Joey grinned as he nodded, “Oh yeah. And don’t think me and Lance didn’t tease him to high heaven for that. But that’s just how he was. He was a dreamer. He was constantly writing things down.” Joey’s eyes grew wistful as he remembered, “I don’t know if I even found half the stuff he wrote. He wrote everything from poems to plays to songs. He had some real talent.”

“What did he do?” Justin wanted to know. “Was he a reporter, too?”

Joey shook his head, “Nah. He wouldn’t have been able to handle that kind of stuff. He hated to see any kind of violence. He was actually an architect.” Joey suddenly stood, “Come on,” he said.

Justin followed suit and took hold of Lexus’s leash. “Where are we going?”

Joey took a key off a rack on the wall. “To their house.”

*****

“I had the door fixed,” Joey told him as he put the key in the lock, “that’s pretty much the only thing I’ve changed since their deaths.

“Why do you have the house?” Justin asked.

Joey turned to look at him, his hand resting on the doorknob. “After JC disappeared, I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else living here.” He grinned ruefully, “It seems ridiculous, but I don’t want to admit that he killed himself. And I just keep thinking that if he did just need to get away for a bit, if he just needed to disappear for a while, he’ll need his house when he comes home.” Joey hung his head; “I didn’t want to admit that he wouldn’t come home.”

Justin put his hand on Joey’s arm. “You were very close, weren’t you?”

Joey looked up and tears shone in his eyes, “The three of us, man, we were like brothers. The Three Musketeers.” He wiped at his eye and turned the knob. Stepping inside the door, he reached for a light. “Just to warn you, Jace kind of freaked when he got the news.”

Justin nodded and Joey moved to the side, allowing Justin to step over the threshold. He heard his own sharp intake of breath as he looked around the room.

Mess wouldn’t even begin to describe this house. Disaster was more like it. There were holes in the plaster where JC threw punches, glasses, vases, plates, anything he could get his hands on. Glass shards lay on the pristine white carpet where they broke loose from their picture frames. As he stepped inside the room, carefully avoiding the strewn objects on the floor, Justin swiveled his head from side to side, taking everything in. He kept Lexus close to his side, the leash short, not wanting her to step on any glass.

Joey was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. “Pretty bad, huh?” Justin could only nod in response. “Like I said, I fixed the door,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and heading towards Justin, “It was destroyed. I watched him put his fist through it. It was a great door, JC and Lance bought a beautiful piece of stained glass together, and had the door built around it.” Justin turned and looked at him in disbelief, and Joey nodded sadly. “Come on,” he said, leading him towards the stairs, “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Justin followed Joey up the winding staircase, looking at the pictures that hung precariously on the walls. In just about each of them, a blond man and a dark man stood close together, arms around each other, laughing at better times. And in every single one of them, the glass was broken.

Justin stopped, “Which one was JC?” he asked Joey.

Joey paused at the top of the steps. “He’s the dark one. Obviously, the blond is Lance.”

Justin reached out and took a picture off the wall. They were dressed in jeans and flannel shirts, cowboy hats tipped on their heads. The couple was standing next to a horse, and Justin could see someone riding a bull in the background. They looked deliriously happy. “They look very happy,” Justin said.

“They were,” Joey said softly. “Come on.”

Justin hung the photo back where he found it, taking care to hang it straight, and climbed the rest of the stairs. He found Joey in the master bedroom. He was staring at the wall, at a portrait of the two men that took up the space behind the bed. “For some reason, he didn’t touch this room,” Joey said. “This is the only room he didn’t destroy.” Joey motioned to the bed, “Look at that, though.” Justin followed his gaze to the bed where clothes were strewn about. “Those are all Lance’s clothes. There’s none left in the closet.”

Justin’s throat suddenly got constricted as he looked at the bed. In his mind, he could see the man he never met sitting in the middle of the bed, surrounded by the clothes of the man he loved, crying himself to sleep. “God,” he said.

“I know. It’s tragic, isn’t it?”

Justin glanced at Joey, “Why didn’t you touch on this in your article? There was so much more to the story than the passing blurb you gave it.”

Joey looked at him and smiled a half smile. “I wanted to, Justin. I wanted to write the best damn article of my career about the two of them. I wanted to win the Prize with that one.” He moved his gaze back to the bed, over the portrait on the wall. When he spoke again, his voice was just above a whisper. “It was just too painful.”

Without another word, Joey turned and left the room.

*****

With another glance at the clothes-strewn bed, Justin slowly turned and followed Joey. He found him in the room adjacent to the bedroom.

“This was JC’s office,” Joey said.

An architect’s desk was set up against one wall, the papers torn and dusty on top. Bookshelves lined the walls, the books that were once housed on the shelves littering the floor, lying open. Drawings were tacked up to the walls, torn in some places, an aftereffect of JC’s rage. Justin walked to the only drawing in the room that was untouched.

“That was their house,” Joey said. When Justin looked at him quizzically, he continued. “JC designed that for them to build when they could afford it. It was the dream.” He shook his head and cleared his throat, quickly wiping a hand over his eyes. “Here,” he said, moving to the desk in the center of the room. He sat on one of the armchairs in front of it. “That computer is what you’re going to need.” Crossing his ankle over his knee, he motioned for Justin to sit behind it.

Justin sat down, Lexus at his feet. He looked up at Joey, and turned the computer on.

While waiting for the computer to boot up, Joey explained. “JC kept his diary on the computer. In the drawer on the right are all his disks.” Justin opened the drawer to see JC’s floppy disks, each neatly labeled with the dates. “You’ll want to read some of them, that way you can get a feel for their relationship.” He stood, “I’m going to head home. When you’re done, lock up, and come on over. I’ll order a pizza or something and answer any of your questions.”

Justin looked up, “Wait. I already have a question.” He motioned to the drawer, “Was this personal? I mean, couldn’t Lance have read these at any time?”

Joey shrugged, “He didn’t have to. Lance could read JC like a book, and he just had a knack for knowing what Jace was feeling. Plus, he wouldn’t have stepped on JC’s privacy like that.” Joey’s eyes grew sad, “Although, JC didn’t keep anything from Lance. Everything he would have written, he would have shared.” He turned away again; “Good luck.”

Justin watched his retreating back for a minute before taking a deep breath and picking up the first disk.

 

_January 24, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: Lance Bass is amazing._

_Yeah, like that’s really news, right? Well, he is, and I’m the luckiest guy in the world to be stuck with him. I guess I should write down what he did that was so damn amazing, so in thirty years, when I’m reading these disks again, I can remember. It was nothing really huge, I guess. For anyone else, it would have seemed trivial, but for me, it was awesome. I was cooped up in my office all day, I had a deadline I had to meet, and the drawing was just not going the way I had planned. Lance had come in earlier in the day, talking to me about nothing, and basically distracting me. I blew up. And when I looked at him, his face was a mask of shock, his green eyes tinted with wetness. But what did I do? Nothing, just turned back to my drawing, and crumpled it up, as if to accentuate that he was bothering me. He turned and left the room. Later that night, when I was sure he had gone to bed without another word to be spoken to me until I repented or something, I went into the bedroom, expecting him to be asleep. Instead, he was sitting in bed, reading. He looked up when I entered the room, and he actually smiled. He smiled!_

_“Finished?” he asked, setting aside his book and sitting up straighter._

_I began to unbutton my shirt as I answered, “Yeah. Thank God.”_

_“It was really getting to you, wasn’t it?” He asked me sympathetically._

_I blew out a breath, “Yeah. Look, Lance, I’m sorry.”_

_He held up a hand to stop me, and crawled across the bed, “No, Jace, it’s okay. I could see that you were under a lot of stress.” He grasped my belt loops and pulled me close, kissing my bare chest, “Love me,” he whispered._

_So what else could I do?_

_See, Lance Bass is amazing._

 

Justin felt the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile. He opened the next entry, and was surprised to see the same five words at the top of the page.

 

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY:_

Except this time, it read: _The ocean water is really cold, even if it’s sunny._

Skimming the entry, and not finding anything of importance, Justin opened the next few entries. Each opened with something JC learned that day.

_Lance is an angel when he sleeps._

_Lance wants a dog, but he doesn’t want to come out and tell me._

_As much I don’t want a dog, I want to get one just to see the look of surprise on Lance’s face when I give it to him._

_Lance has to go away again in two weeks. Another rodeo._

Justin stopped at this entry and began to read.

_I hate the rodeo. I hate the violence, I hate the damn bulls, I hate the fact that the cowboys wrestle poor calves to the ground just to tie them up, I hate the fact that Lance loves it so much. Mostly I hate the rodeo because it takes Lance away from me._

_Why does he have to be a rodeo cowboy? Jesus, we live on a beach in California! I met him at a California nightclub! How did I manage to meet the only damn cowboy in the state?_

_Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but you get my point._

_I love him so much it hurts sometimes. And I’ve heard the stories about rodeo cowboys who have gotten broken arms or legs when they fell off their horse. Or the ones who had a bull step on him when he was thrown. I don’t want that for Lance. I don’t want him to be thrown from the bull he’s riding that night, and not have it distracted by the clown, and have it charge him while he’s lying helpless on the ground. I don’t want that, dammit! And every single time Lance tells me he’s leaving, I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. And then I can never get enough of him until he leaves. I become his damn shadow, sticking to him like glue, making love to him in the middle of the day because what happens if he doesn’t come home from Dallas, or Fort Worth or Cheyenne or wherever the hell the next rodeo is?_

_Those days before he leaves, it’s like we make love like it’s our last time._

_Fucking rodeos, they’re going to send me to an early grave, I just know it. I can’t stand the worrying, the nights of waiting by the phone when he’s gone, just to pounce on it when it rings, hearing his deep voice come across the line, excited as he tells me of his latest victory. I can’t take it much longer. I’m going to have to just tell him how I feel one day._

_April 28, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: Lance has the same color eyes as the stained glass panel that we just bought._

_Well, of course I mean the green in the panel, not the demon red color or anything, but it’s amazing. We were walking along this quaint little shopping area outside the city limits, and we came upon an old man with a little corner shop. Inside were the most amazing lights, lamps, fixtures, and panels, all made of stained glass. The one that caught my eye was way in the back of the shop, leaning against the wall, a light shining through it. And the light was hitting the green in the design in just the right way that it made me think of Lance when he’s telling me he loves me. The green in his eyes is so bright, just like the glass. So I bought it, and informed Lance that we were going to build a door around it._

_His eyes twinkled as he laughed, “Build a door around it? That’s going to cost a lot.”_

_I kissed him, “That’s okay, because now every time I come home, it’ll be like walking into you.”_

_He rolled those beautiful eyes, “You’re so pathetic, Jace. You’d think with all your writing talents you’d come up with a better metaphor than that.”_

_I shrugged as I hefted the glass to carry it to the counter, “It was off the top of my head, sorry. I’m still buying this, though.”_

_I can’t wait to see it on our front door._

_May 4, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: After we make love, Lance gets the most content look on his face._

_Well, it was his birthday. And when I asked him what he wanted, he told me all he wanted was to spend the whole day in bed with me. And who am I to argue, right? After all, it is his birthday._

_We woke up in the afternoon, Lance in my arms. Surprisingly, I woke up first. I just watched him sleep, watched his head rise and fall in time with my breathing. His hair tickled my nose and I ran my hand through it, marveling at how soft it was, wondering why I never noticed it before._

_He woke up when there was a loud pounding on the front door. “Ignore them,” he mumbled into my chest. So, I tried. Although, the knocking was persistent. So, with a curse, I pulled myself away from Lance and went downstairs._

_I should have known it was going to be Joey. He knew exactly what we wanted to do all day, so he had to come and ruin it for us. Sometimes I curse Lance for telling Joey that the house next door was for sale. Our lives would be so much quieter if he still lived two hours away._

_To make a long story short, instead of spending the whole day in bed, we traipsed around town with Joey, hanging out. It was still cool, Lance and Joey are such fuck-ups together, and we had a really great time. But, then I caught Lance looking at me while we were in the restaurant having dinner, and I knew what he was thinking. His eyes were a darker shade of green, his lips were slightly parted, and as I watched, his mouth curved into the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen. I swear, I got hard from just one look._

_So, we came home. We practically shoved Joey out the door, and I attacked Lance before the door was shut right. There was a trail of our clothing leading from the front door to the bedroom. We actually almost didn’t make it. I almost had to have him right there on our steps. But then he looked up at me. And called me Josh, and I knew I would do anything he asked._

_“Josh, I want to make love in our bed, not on the stairs.” I started to get up, but he caught my face in his hands, “I want you to make love to me. I want to feel you in me. I want to feel how much you love me.”_

_I stared into his eyes. They were so wide, so full of love, so full of desire. And I knew how much this was asking of him. He hated to be the bottom. He hated the feeling of me entering him. It was just so painful to him for some reason. And I never minded, really I don’t. I don’t care how I have Lance, as long as I have him._

_"I know it hurts,” he was saying softly, “But you have to know that I think it’s the most incredible feeling in the world, and I’m willing to risk any pain to be with you like that.”_

_I leaned forward and kissed his lips gently. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”_

_His eyes took on a playful cast, “I don’t want you to be gentle.”_

_My lips met his in a hunger. I forced my tongue into his mouth, tasting him. He whimpered softly and wrapped his arms around my neck. We stood as one, careful on the steps, and moved to the bedroom. I threw him on the bed, dropping my body on top of his, covering him with kisses. His hands were all over me, my hair, my shoulders, my back, everywhere. I kissed his whole body, not wanting to miss a single inch of it with my tongue. He moaned my name, throwing his head back, the blond hair a stark contrast against the dark blue of the pillow._

_I moved off of him long enough to reach for the bottle of lube we kept in the drawer. “This will only hurt for a second, Baby,” I promised him._

_Lance bit his lip and nodded, his eyes tightly closed. “I love you, Jace,” he whispered._

_I paused at his entrance when he spoke. He opened his eyes and stared into mine. “I love you, too, Lance.” Leaning forward, I kissed him softly, gently easing inside of him. He moved his mouth from mine to let out a soft cry of pain. “It’s okay, Baby,” I spoke to him, “Let it out.”_

_“I’m fine,” he said. And when he looked up at me, there was no pain in his eyes, only love. I knew he wasn’t lying to me._

_We made gently love, not rushing, just wanting to be together in this place and time. I don’t know how long we moved together, I didn’t care, really. I just knew I loved this man with all my heart and soul, and I wanted him to know that. I wanted him to feel that with every soft and gentle thrust._

_And when it was over, he held me close. And his face was so relaxed, so content, that I was struck with how damn happy he looked._

_“Happy Birthday, Lance,” I whispered, kissing the top of his head as he fell asleep._

 

Justin closed the entry, somehow feeling like he was invading JC’s privacy. He sat back and stretched, reaching towards the ceiling. Looking at the items on the desk that somehow escaped JC’s wrath; he reached for a picture lying face down. Picking it up, he saw it was a double frame. On one side, a picture of JC and Lance on the beach, Lance sitting in front of JC, JC’s arms tightly around him. Lance’s face was turned towards JC, and a smile was on his lips. JC had his eyes closed, his lips on Lance’s temple. The other picture was of Lance, JC, Joey and someone Justin hadn’t seen before. They were at Joey’s house, Justin recognized the kitchen. JC was on Lance’s lap, Joey and the stranger on either side of them. Justin turned the frame over, opening the back of it, and taking out the picture.

Seeing handwriting on it, he read, Me, Jace, Joey and Chris. August 1999.

Justin placed the picture back in the frame, wondering who Chris was. The four were obviously good friends, although Justin assumed Chris wasn’t close by, since Joey hadn’t mentioned him, and had referred to himself Lance and JC as the Three Musketeers. Sighing, Justin reached for the disk labeled August 1999, hoping to get a clue to who Chris was.

 

_August 13, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: Chris is a nut. Really, he is._

_Lance’s friend Chris came into town this week, that’s why I haven’t had a lot of time to write. We (meaning Joey and me) haven’t seen him in a while, so he decided to come here before him and Lance head off to Texas for the rodeo. I don’t think Chris ever really comes out of his character. I mean, he the perfect rodeo clown even when he’s not dressed up and hiding in a barrel._

_We always have a good time when Chris is around. He makes us do the weirdest things. This time, we went skydiving, bungee jumping, and we all went to a gay bar. Lance and I never go to gay bars, why we agreed was beyond me. Chris and Joey were hysterical, though. All night they were pretending that they were dating, just to keep other men away. I swear, if they weren’t both straight as a nail, they’d be perfect for each other._

_August 17, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: Saying good-bye really sucks._

_I know I should be used to it, and I know technically, I didn’t learn this today, I learned it the first time Lance left, but it still sucks. He and Chris got on that flight less than three hours ago, and I find myself roaming the house, missing him like crazy._

_August 18, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: The area around the rodeo arena (I don’t know what you call that for real, I mean the sandy part where the cowboys do their thing) is called a beach._

_I don’t really know if this is true, actually. Lance called me today and gave me this little tidbit of information. I think he may have been making it up, though. He would do that for me. See, he knows I have this romantic streak in me. And by telling me that he’s on a beach, and me knowing that all I have to do is go outside, and I’m on a beach, well, that’s romantic. Because the thought of both of us walking along a beach at the same time, even though we’re hundreds of miles away from each other somehow makes me feel better._

_August 31, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: Fighting with Lance is no good._

_Well, I did it. I told him. I told him how I felt about the rodeos, how I felt about him going, how I was just so damn scared for him every time he got on a bull that I made myself sick with worry. There was yelling, screaming, everything. And then I said something I should have never said: “Why don’t you get a real job?”_

_Silence. Utter and complete silence. Then he nodded, “If that’s how you feel, I guess there’s no use talking to you.” He started to turn away and then stopped. “But I’m still going to Cheyenne next month.”_

_I hate the fucking rodeo._

 

Justin took the August disk out of the drive. Glancing at his watch, he realized he had been reading the diary of JC Chasez for over two hours. He had read about their first meeting, the first time they made love, and the first fight they ever had. He had read JC’s private thoughts, feelings, and emotions towards his lover. He felt as if he knew them, knew their story, and somehow now they weren’t so much strangers anymore, they were friends that he had lost touch with along the way.

With dread, he pulled out September’s disk. This was the last disk. He knew that the ending of this tragic love story was on that particular disk. He knew Lance died in Cheyenne, JC not long after. Sometimes, knowing the ending of a story really sucked.

As if Lexus knew something was troubling her master, she stood up and rested her head in his lap. Absently, Justin pet her head, scratching her behind the ear. “I don’t know if I want to read this, Lex,” he said softly. “I can just imagine what JC was going through.” Lexus wined softly, nuzzling her head into his lap, and placing one paw on her knee. Justin laughed at her, “Okay, I know, I’m being a baby, right?” He slipped the disk into the drive.

 

_September 2, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: Makeup sex is the best._

_We haven’t really come to an agreement, but we’re trying. I still don’t want him to go to Cheyenne, he still insists he’s going. I don’t know, maybe we could work something out. Like he can go to six events a year. I don’t know. I just don’t want him to get hurt. Is that so bad?_

_September 8, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: This is the worst fight we’ve ever had._

_I don’t even want to write about it. I swear we can’t go a day without screaming at each other._

_September 13, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: Lance is seriously pissed at me._

_He’s in the bedroom right now packing. He leaves tomorrow morning. I so don’t want him to go. I don’t know why this time is so much worse than the others, but it is. I have this ball of knots in the pit of my stomach, I feel like shit. I don’t know if I feel this way because all we’ve been doing for the past two weeks is fighting about Cheyenne, or if it’s a bad feeling about the rodeo._

_Maybe it’s a bit of both. Yeah, the fight’s been tearing me apart, but I think it’s more the fact that Lance is leaving again. We’ve been lucky so far, and it’s time for our luck to change. I don’t want to meet Lance at the airport when he comes home to find him on crutches. Or to see a bruise on his beautiful face from where the bull kicked him. I want him to be safe. I want him to be here._

_I think we had the worst of the fight tonight. In the middle of the yelling, he said, “JC, this is the last time I’m telling you, I’m going to Cheyenne.”_

_I had it. And before I could stop myself I hurled at him: “You know what? I don’t care if you don’t come back!”_

_I didn’t mean it. God, if he would leave me, I don’t know what I would do. And I think he knows that. I think he knows I want him to come home to me. But the look on his face, the fire that escaped his eyes, the tears that burned a path down his cheeks…I wish I could take those words back. But I can’t._

_September 14, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: The house is really lonely without Lance._

_He left this morning. I guess Joey drove him to the airport because he didn’t wake me to drive him._

_I was awake when he left, though. I felt him getting out of bed, I heard the shower running. I didn’t tell him I was awake, I guess it was my foolish pride getting in the way. I lie there, my eyes closed, and I felt him standing over me, I smelled his cleanness, the soap on his body. I heard his movements as he got dressed. And I heard him leave the room._

_He didn’t kiss me goodbye._

_I was waiting for him to come back upstairs and kiss me, but I’m still waiting._

_This was the first time we’ve ever left each other without a kiss goodbye._

_I don’t know what to make of it. Does it mean more than I think? Does it mean he’s actually thinking of leaving me? Why would he not kiss me? Why would he just leave and not wake me up? Why? Why? Why?_

_Joey was just here. He dropped off a letter that Lance had given him. I’ll just type it here._

_Josh:_

_I know you hate the fact that I’m leaving. I’m sorry. But this is my life. There wasn’t a time when I didn’t want to be a rodeo cowboy. There wasn’t a time when I didn’t want to be riding a bull. You wouldn’t understand the thrill I get when the gate opens, and the bull shoots out and I’m holding on for dear life._

_But I’m thinking of you up there. I know you won’t believe me, I know you think I should be thinking of the remaining seconds I have before I qualify, or the mechanics I’ve learned so I won’t fall off, or the fact that my mind should only be focused on this huge animal beneath me. In truth, JC, all I see is you. I see you hunched over your drawing board, your glasses on your nose, a pencil tucked behind your ear, your lip between your teeth in concentration. Or I see you in front of the computer. So focused on writing down your thoughts that you don’t see me in the doorway watching you. Or I picture you in bed. Sometimes I see you as I do after we make love, sometimes I just see you sleeping._

_Are you getting the point here, Josh? You’re my world. I’d give anything up for you._

_So I’ll give this up. After Cheyenne, I’m coming home to you, and I’ll going to get “a real job” and I’m going to be with you._

_I’ll be home soon, JC. The last ride will be over, and I’ll be on the first flight home._

_Home to you._

_I love you,  
Lance_

_Can you believe that? Can you believe the sacrifice he’s making for me? If possible I love him more. I’m going to go out and buy a dog tomorrow. He deserves that much. Maybe we’ll name her Cheyenne, after the place where he rode his last bull._

_I can’t wait until he comes home_

_September 19, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: Lance is dead._

_I can barely type. Tears are streaming down my face. They’re falling off my cheeks, hitting my hands, getting the keyboard all wet. I can’t see the screen through them. But what does it matter? Lance is dead._

_I was on my way out the door when the phone rang. I was going to get that damn dog, and the phone rang, and I thought it might be Lance, because he was supposed to call me. But it wasn’t._

_“JC?”_

_I should have known. I should have fucking known that when Chris’s voice came over the line something horrible had happened._

_“Hey, what’s up, Chris?” He was silent. I heard him sniffle and suddenly, I had the urge to sit down. “Chris?” I whispered. “Tell me.” A sob escaped his throat and I yelled, “Tell me God dammit!”_

_“It’s Lance,” he said softly._

_“No shit,” I said. “What happened? Is he in the hospital?” There were tears now, “Please Chris, tell me.”_

_“He drew Red Blood,” Chris said. “That was the name of the bull. He got thrown off, Jace.” Chris took a deep breath, “He broke his neck in the fall.”_

_“No!” I wailed. “He’s not dead!”_

_“I’m sorry, JC,” Chris said, openly sobbing. “I was the first one at his side, I kept yelling at him to wake up, to open his damn eyes.”_

_Chris continued to talk, but I didn’t hear him. I didn’t hear anything after “He broke his neck in the fall.” Lance was gone. I was never going to see him again. I was never going to wake up next to him, I was never going to kiss him, I was never going to smell him, I was never going to make love to him, I was never going to make him laugh again. Hell, I was never going to fucking see him again!!!!_

_I dropped the phone. I didn’t hang it up. Chris’s voice was still coming over the line, calling my name, but I ignored him. Sobbing, I lashed out. My hand connected with the vase on our table. The vase soon after connected with the wall. That was it. I went crazy. I don’t even remember it. The next thing I remember is Joey, barging through the door, pulling me into his arms, the two of us sobbing like the world was coming to an end._

_The difference is, my world did come to an end._

_I assumed Chris called Joey, because it wasn’t that long that I went on my rampage before Joey was at the house. It didn’t matter. I didn’t have Lance. I looked around my house, at the house that Lance and I bought together, furnished together, decorated together, and my gaze fell on the one thing that reminded me the most of him. The stained glass door._

_I stood, shrugging Joey off of me. I walked to the door and stood in front of it. As if in a dream, my hand reached out, touching the green in the glass that caught my eye that first day. I sobbed as I ran my hand over the smooth glass. Then I punched it. I caught Joey off guard, it was too late to stop me. My hand went through the glass, the green shards falling to the carpet._

_Then Joey was behind me again, dragging me away, up the stairs. I managed to break every picture on the way up, every picture with his face in it. I couldn’t stand to see me so happy. I couldn’t stand that just yesterday, Lance had agreed to give up the rodeo, and now he was dead._

_He was dead. I’m never getting him back._

_I can’t live like this. I can’t live without him._

_All our dreams. The house we were going to build. The kids we were going to adopt. The things we were going to do. They all died with Lance._

_I died with Lance._

 

There was a break in the page, and Justin looked away, his eyes resting on the picture of the two lovers on the beach. He could fell the desperation in JC’s writing. He could picture him huddled over the keyboard, his fingers furiously typing, trying to find answers in a screen. And in the end, they were all questions that had no answers. Because Lance would never come home.

Lance would die before JC had a chance to ask him.

Justin looked back to the screen.

*****

Justin wiped his eyes. He felt like such a wuss. He didn’t even know these people. He didn’t know Lance, and yet here he was, crying over him.

“I guess you got to the part where he died.”

Justin looked up to see Joey in the doorway. “Yeah.”

Joey came into the room. “JC was a wreck. When he punched the glass, he didn’t even feel it. He had just got done destroying the house, and he could feel no pain. His hand was a mess, and he continued to hit things. Me, the wall, the pictures, everything.” He sat on one of the chairs and looked at Justin, his eyes haunted. “I have never seen anything like it in my life.”

Justin gestured to the screen, “I could tell he really loved Lance. It was like losing himself.”

Joey nodded, “I know.” He looked down, “He didn’t even make it long enough for Lance’s body to be delivered back here.” He motioned to Justin, “Go ahead. There’s probably only one or two more entries.”

 

_September 20, 1999_

_ONE THING I LEARNED TODAY: Life isn’t worth living if Lance isn’t in it._

_I’m going to kill myself._

_I decided that today. I’m not going to tell anyone, I’m not going to leave a note, or call Joey moments before, hoping he’ll stop me. I don’t want to be stopped._

_I sat on our bed today, surrounded by Lance. The portrait on the wall, his clothes spread out around me, his shirt held up to my nose. I remembered my last words to him; “I don’t care if you don’t come back.”_

_This is all my fault. Somehow, by saying that, I cursed him. I cursed Lance, making him die._

_And if he wouldn’t have been thinking of me on that bull, maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe if he had thinking about the mechanics of riding, he would be here right now._

_Maybe if I had told Lance I was awake that morning, he would have listened to me say I was sorry. Maybe he would have kissed me goodbye._

_I’ll get my goodbye kiss, though. When I see him in heaven, I’ll get all the kisses I want._

_I’ll see him later tonight. I’m going to walk down that beach and into that ocean, and think about how Lance died on his own beach in Cheyenne._

_We’ll be together again._

_Just how God intended it._

 

Somehow Justin knew without looking that was the last entry. He looked up at Joey to see him leaning forward in the chair, his head in his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Joey,” Justin said. “You lost two wonderful people.”

Joey looked up at him. “Please do them justice, Justin. Please write about them and make people understand that them being in love was a wonderful, beautiful thing. Please make people see that JC didn’t sin by taking his life, because he would have wasted away without Lance, and at least this way he was happy.” His brown eyes were pleading, “Please make people understand that those of us who look out of our windows and see a lone figure walking along the beach, looking for something I hope to God he found, that we’re not crazy. Please.”

Justin nodded at the man in front of him. “I promise.”

*****

The FedEx package arrived a few days later. Joey stood on his porch, staring at the envelope, knowing what it contained. He moved through his house, through the hallway, through the kitchen, not stopping until he was on his deck, looking out at the ocean, the sun setting on the horizon.

Finally opening the letter, he sank into a chair and began to read. On top of the papers was a short letter from Justin.

Hey Joey,

I was going to stop by and drop this off, but I didn’t know if I was welcome. Thanks so much for all your help with this paper, I couldn’t have done it without you.

When I got this project, I was pissed I didn’t get a more interesting legend, like Paul Bunyon. As it turned out, I got the best legend of all. I leaned more than you can ever imagine from the story of JC and Lance, the least of which is to never take anything for granted.

I’m enclosing a copy of my paper. It’s not due for another week, so if there’s anything you don’t like or anything that you think isn’t true, please call me and I’ll change it.

You really should write that article, Joey. You’re the one who can really do them justice.

Thanks again,  
Justin Timberlake

His phone number was on the letter, along with his return address. Joey set the letter aside and began to read.

_Theirs was a love that knew no end. Distance, space, and even death couldn’t keep them apart. They were going to be together, even if it meant he had to die. And now, Joshua ‘JC’ Chasez is seen walking the beaches of California, while his lover, Lance Bass is walking the beaches in Cheyenne. One day, they will find each other. Maybe that day has come._

Joey read the entire paper slowly, pausing at times to wipe his eyes. Justin wrote of their love like the tragic lovers that they were. There was an obvious nod to Romeo and Juliet when Justin wrote of Lance’s death and how it affected JC. He found that Justin kept the details of their most private moments private, telling of their love without demeaning it, making it seem trivial. When Joey got to the last paragraph, he had to pause to wipe his eyes so he could read the print.

_This legend has affected me more than I thought it would. When I sat down and read the diaries of JC Chasez, I was taken back a year in time. I became JC, I could feel his emotions, his love, his affection for Lance. I cried when I read of his death, and I have never met the man. Many people along the way have been touched by either JC or Lance, and those people swear they see JC on the beach at night. Next time, believe them. Don’t ridicule their belief that JC is walking, searching for Lance. Because I believe he is._

_And I believe that he will find him. Because they are meant to be together._

Joey set the paper aside. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, forcing the tears to stop. Standing, he moved to the railing of the deck, looking out into the vast ocean, watching the moonlight dance across the waves.

And down by the water, two men, one blond, the other dark, walked hand in hand. Together.

*****

**Author's Note:**

> This story was heavily inspired by the song "Beaches of Cheyenne" by Garth Brooks. And mildly inspired by the song "Still Holding Out For You" by SHeDaisy.


End file.
